


Moment's Silence

by Kestrelshade



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, and they were travel companions, can't a gay binch appreciate hands?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23815789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrelshade/pseuds/Kestrelshade
Summary: "The hand is a voice that can sing what the voice will not." Faendal reflects on the stories his companion's hands tell.
Relationships: Faendal (Elder Scrolls)/Original Character(s), Faendal (Elder Scrolls)/Original Male Character(s), Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Faendal
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Moment's Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Partial quote by Richard Siken from the poem "The Language of the Birds." I've grown rather fond of the Elder Scrolls universe and Faendal, my favorite Bosmer archer. He always needs more love. Thanks again to FourCatProductions for being a wonderful beta reader!

The first rays of sunlight crept over Skyrim, and our travel companions slept soundly in their respective tents. They would wake within the next hour. Kelus and I, on the other hand, greeted the morning sooner than most. We weren’t even up before dawn most days, preferring to sleep in when we didn’t have to travel. 

However, rest hadn’t been our main concern last night.

I blushed, remembering the night before when I touched the side of my neck. There would be bruises forming from my tent partner’s rough handling. Said partner snored lightly beside me, worn out from last night’s activities. I blinked at him affectionately. His face was close to mine, but I didn’t reach out to touch it, for fear of disturbing his rest. Instead, I examined it carefully; he appeared younger while he slept. He usually wore a thoughtful gaze, turning over new ideas in his head constantly. I’d promised him that once we settled down, he would have his own workshop to tinker with ideas. The worry lines that perpetually creased his brow had smoothed. Was sleep truly the only time he felt peace? Even then, I wasn’t certain.

I allowed him to rest a while longer. He occasionally stirred, while I lay silent in my bedroll, thought wandering idly, until he shifted in his sleep and rolled onto his side.

  
  


At least, I thought he was sleeping, until his eyes fluttered open.

“Morning.” he sighed, still partially asleep.

“Good morning,” I said, stretching to kiss his nose.

“Why are you awake? It’s rather early.” he said.

“I could say the same for you. Why were you awake so late?” 

Kelus’ brow wrinkled. “You know damn well, why,” he said, almost growling, and reached towards me, capturing me in a sleepy kiss.

I pulled away, gasping. “You started it, Kel.” 

“Faendal, you agreed to stay up with me,” he said, laughing.

“That I did,” I said softly, and then I was quiet.

A warm hand took my own. I'd held this hand many times, but it never failed to fascinate me. He rubbed his thumb across the back of my hand, softly squeezing it in reassurance. 

_ Still here. _

I squeezed back in response. Our hands entwined, fingers curling over one another. We didn't need to say anything. Kelus was fairly soft-spoken to begin with, and I wasn’t awake enough to fill the silence just yet..

I let go of his hand, flaring my fingers. He matched his to mine once more, our palms touching.

His hand was broad and his fingers nimble. A creator's hand, a hand that could strum a lute and play a lively tune. He never did, though. He had regained bits and pieces of his memory after the mage attack at the border, as well as his ability to play the lute. If it had been me, I would have been excited; He, however, seemed sad when he recovered that memory. I never asked him why. Was it some hidden memory, best left forgotten? I wouldn't pry. He had enough on his mind.

He had callouses, but who didn't in the land of Skyrim? It seems like everyone grew up with a sword by their side in these troubled times.

My own hand wasn't small, but the width of his palm encompassed it. A woodcutter's hand, rough, but strong. I took care of my hands, wearing gloves whenever possible to minimize cracking and damage. They were, for better or for worse, my livelihood, and now, for my protection.

I gave Kelus the occasional glance, but he seemed just as focused on my hand as I was his. He had lived many lives, some yet unknown to him, others as clear as day. 

The same hands that have held weapons, tinkered with locked chests, and mixed ingredients into potions and poisons have cupped my face, gently turning me into a kiss. They have tangled in my hair, loosening the tie, and clasped behind my neck, arms looped over my shoulders as we kissed. For all of the violent things his hands have been forced to do, they never lost their tenderness. They still rubbed my tense shoulders at the end of the day, still held me in the night, his hands resting on my stomach. They would explore my chest, feeling the beating of my heart. I couldn't hide how he caused it to beat faster, and he would smirk, knowing the effect he had on me. He wasn't boastful about it. 

In another quiet, intimate moment, he’d admitted this thing we had started all these months ago was the first time he felt desired by another. This hurt my heart to hear, but at the time, I vowed to make sure he knew how much I cared for him. 

Our eyes met, and wordlessly, we nestled together. I pressed my face into his bare chest, skin warm against my cheek. He kissed the top of my head and wrapped me in his arms. 

The last thing I remembered was his voice.

"Let's get some sleep, Faendal." 

"Mhm, love you, Kel," I said, voice muffled. 

He let out a soft, breathy laugh. 

"Love you too, Fae."

We slept, undisturbed by the world around us, and didn't rise until mid-morning.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
